


America x Reader: Good and Bad Things

by KethriHolmes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cleaning, F/M, M/M, Memories, Memory, SOLDIER - Freeform, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:36:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KethriHolmes/pseuds/KethriHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to go through a room full of boxes and boxes of memories. Some are good, some are bad, but all are important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	America x Reader: Good and Bad Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Locksley613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Locksley613/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don’t own any Hetalia characters and I certainly don’t own you. I just own the plotline and I take all credit for the feels.

_You pause, your hand on the doorknob. You don’t want to go in there, so much so that your hand is shaking. But you volunteered for this – although at the moment you can’t imagine why – and so you have to see it through to the end. Taking a deep breath, you open the door._

_Inside are piles and piles of slightly organized stuff. Small paths separated like-minded objects in a room about the size of a bedroom. And it’s your job to sort through it all, all these things, some of which are yours, but most of which belong to him. America. Alfred F. Jones._

_You decide that it will be better just to get it over with. There’s so much stuff that, if you don’t start immediately, it will never, ever get done. You have three boxes in the hall (since there’s no way they’ll fit in the room) marked “toss,” “give away,” and “keep.” As you start out, working on the oldest stuff in the back first and moving forward, most of the stuff is easy. You just throw it away. It’s not worth anything, and you’re not even sure why he was still holding on to it. Such a pack rat. But then you come across something that makes you pause. It’s a hamburger keychain from the first time you met America at your first world meeting as an official country…_

You sit up against the wall, your knees up to your chest. You were so young then, a brand new country, only about eight or nine years old, setting out on your own for the first time. It was the first time you could actually go into the meeting, instead of waiting outside for your big brother, Canada, to come back out.

“Hey, (name)!” America shouted, running up to you. “What’s wrong? You look a little lost.” You nod slowly, trying to dry your tears on your pink sweater sleeve. Lost is an understatement. Even though you arrived a half hour early, you’ve wasted about that amount of time just trying to find the meeting room. You had finally given up and crumpled against the wall in despair, afraid that you would never find your way out of this labyrinth of hallways.

He bends down and ruffles your hair. “Don’t cry. I’m the hero, and now that I’m here, there’s nothing for you to worry about.” Welcomingly, he holds out his arms. You jump into them and he carries you to the meeting room, which was just around the one corner that you hadn’t checked. “There, see? Not a problem. Welcome to the club, kid!” He ruffles your hair and hands you a keychain. It’s got a ridiculous hamburger on the end that squeaks when you squeeze it, but to you it was the best thing you had ever been given…

 _The memory fades and you put the keychain down in the “keep” box, your eyes tearing up a little as you do so. It would be too painful to toss and it’s not worth enough to give away, so you force yourself to move on. You keep going through things and putting them in the toss or give away piles until you find a box of old nick-nacks and open it up. Sitting right on top is a pocket watch, antique looking and bronze, with an eagle design on one side and the words_ Ense petit placidam sub liberate _, or “With the sword he seeks peace under liberty,” engraved into the front. It’s the one you gave him for your first Christmas together, ten years after your first meeting…_

“And now it’s time for the Secret Santa Exchange!” America announced in a loud voice. The constant buzz of chatter from the party dwindled. “I’m going to draw names from this hat. When your name is called, come up and find your present. Then you have to open up your gift in front of everyone and try and guess who gave it to you. If you get it right, good for you! If you don’t, don’t worry, you’ll get another chance after everyone has guessed once. The goal is for everyone to know who their secret Santa was by the end of the night.”

America started drawing names from the ridiculous top hat that he had sitting on a podium in front of the Christmas tree. You had helped decorate the whole room, a position you had volunteered for so that you could spend more time with America. You are his secret Santa, but you had no idea what to get him. You hope he likes what you ended up getting.

“Ha ha, looks like I’m next!” He says into the microphone and you freeze, breathless, as you wait to find out what he thinks. It seems to take him a long time to find it. You are worrying the sleeves of your holiday sweater with your fingers, clenching and unclenching your fists as you start to wonder if they forgot to put yours up there, but it’s finally found. It’s such a small package compared to some of the others that you’re not sure. “Cool!” He says, holding up the pocket watch for all to see. “This is really neat. Japan, did you give this to me?” Japan shakes his head and America looks at the watch thoughtfully. “Well, maybe I’ll have better luck next round.” 

Your breathing resumes. You should have known that he wouldn’t think of you. For the past ten years, you had admired him from afar, but he probably hardly noticed you. Having been under Canada for so long, you are an excellent wallflower, trained by the best.  
After a few more names, America finally draws your name out of the hat. You walk up to the front and are presented with a package. You open it to find a really cute pale blue sweater that had super long sleeves and hung off of one shoulder. It was a wonderful present. Pretty much all you wore was sweaters. “Canada?” You guess. He knew that you liked sweaters, since he saw you every day, and would know what kind of sweater you would like. He nods and you celebrate a little inside at getting it on the first try.  
It takes two more rounds before America finally guesses your name…

_You put the watch with the keychain, surprised that you haven’t found more things to keep. But a lot of the stuff in that room is just junk, with nothing to compel you to keep it._

_The next set of boxes is fairly light, filled mostly with clothes. But one seems oddly heavy. You dig to the bottom and pull out a wooden box. Inside is a single letter, addressed from you to America…_

You sit at a corner table in a little café, waiting for your opportunity. Today was the day. You were finally going to give that letter to America, the one that you had been carrying around with you for almost a year. But England had happened to mention in your presence that he would be meeting America here.

Taking a deep breath, you get up. You need to get this done before England gets there or you would never be able to do it. This was your only chance. You make your way across the café to America’s table.

“H-hey,” you manage to stutter softly.

“Hey, how are ya doing?” He shouts, but you realize quickly that he is looking past you, not at you. You turn slowly to see England walking towards you, or rather, towards America. All of your courage and determination gone, you run out into the sun, your eyes brimming with tears as you race down the street…

_Coming back from the memory, you realize that it’s lunchtime and your stomach is grumbling. Setting the box and letter in the keep box, you fix a quick sandwich and lemonade and get back to work. You notice something as you look out over the room. Without realizing it, you had already cleared out over half of the boxes. You pick up the next one and hear a light tinkling. Inside is a tea set, which you know to be missing a cup…_

You are running down the street so fast, you might as well be flying. You finally managed to ask America if he would go out with you, and he said yes! You don’t think your heart could ever be any lighter than it is right in this moment. Nothing could ruin this moment for you, so you rush home from work to get ready for your date.

Time seems to inch forward towards seven o’clock, when America was supposed to pick you up to go to dinner. At five ‘till seven, the phone rings. It’s America.

“Hey it’s America,” he says, like there was any possible way you couldn’t know. “Sorry to do this to you, but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight.”

“Why not?” You ask, your heart sinking into your stomach.

“England and France are having a pool tournament and since I’m the reigning champion, there’s no way I could miss it and have one of them dethrone me. But we’re still cool, right? Still friends?”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions under control. “Yeah, totally, that’s absolutely cool. We’ll just have to go to dinner another night. Have fun at your tournament.”

“I will. See you later.” There’s a click on the other end as he hangs up.

You slam the phone back in its place and pick up the closest thing to you – which happens to be a teacup – and chuck it down the hall. It hits the wall and shatters, showering the floor with pieces of porcelain. All the emotions that you managed to hold back while you were still on the phone rage through your body and you slide down the wall, burying your head in your knees as you sob uncontrollably. You’re upset, you’re angry. And at the moment you vow to yourself that you will get over America so that he can’t do this to you again…

_Memories of that night still make your heart hurt a little bit. You’d been trying for so long to get his attention and all he could see was a wallflower. But you still don’t have the heart to throw the other tea cups away, or part with them at all, so another memory is filed away to be kept._

_You go to move forward again, but sitting on top of the next box is a doll. It had curly brown hair, blue eyes, freckles, a pretty pink dress and matching hat. You pick it up and gently run your finger across its dusty face…_

“What is this?” You ask, holding a box, with America standing awkwardly in front of you. You’ve been avoiding him for the past month, telling yourself that it’s because you don’t care if you see him or not, but deep down you know that you are actively trying to stay away.

“It’s…a gift. I’ve been thinking all month of how I can make up for blowing you off. You have no idea how horrible I feel about it.” Oh, so that’s what this is about. You scoff a little inside. So he feels horrible? Good, he should feel like that. He broke your heart.

You unwrap the badly wrapped present and find a beautiful doll inside. “I’m not really good at buying gifts,” he apologizes.

You love the doll, but in your heart you aren’t ready to forgive him yet, so you turn to leave. The world meeting is probably going to start soon. But before you can get very far, America’s hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this past month and there’s something I realized about you.” You try to get away but he reels you in and before you realize what’s happening, his lips are against yours. You’re frozen in place, your mind refusing to react. But then your body takes over and you find yourself kissing him back.

When you walk into the world meeting a couple minutes later, you and America are holding hands…

_You can’t help but smile when you think of your first kiss with America. You continue to sort through boxes until you get to the last one. This is the one you have been dreading all day, the one that’s been haunting you since you started cleaning. With tears in your eyes, you open a box holding a letter, dog tags, and a flag…_

“Are you sure you have to go?” You ask. You are standing with America on his front porch. He’s asked you to watch over his house while he’s gone.

“I’m sure,” he answers sadly. “My boss is determined that I go fight in this new war. But I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He kisses you lightly on the forehead and then deeply on the lips before picking up his bags and walking over to put them in the trunk of his car. You watch sorrowfully as he drives away until he disappears around a corner.

A couple months later, you are sitting in America’s living room watching television when you hear the doorbell ring. You open the door to see two somber soldiers standing in front of you. One of them is holding a letter. The other is holding a flag with a set of dog tags sitting on top.

“Are you Miss (Name)?” The one with the letter asks. You nod slowly, not liking where this is going. “England told us we could find you here. We are sorry to inform you that America, or Alfred Jones, was killed in action.”

After that sentence, you don’t hear anything else they are saying. All you feel is numb as you take the items from the men and shut the door after they leave. As soon as you are alone, you sink to your knees, with the letter, dog tags, and flag resting in your lap.


End file.
